What Must Sex with a Reaver be like?
by Souplog
Summary: A funny little FemHawke/Isabella short.


To Isabella there was never any doubt that she would have sex with Hawke. Hawke was a beautiful woman after all, and Isabella couldn't call herself the bona fide Pirate Queen if she didn't jump at the chance to bed a beautiful woman. But it was more than that. Hawke was a genuine soul; kind and considerate and always certain in her morality. There was a satisfaction in seducing someone like that. Pride. The sort of thing Isabella would remember fondly years from now as she lounged wistfully on the prow of some new ship in the middle of the Amaranthine Ocean.

Not just another notch in the bedpost, in other words. Or, if it was, then at least a notch that deserved placement on that special bedpost reserved for memorable lays. Then she remembered that her old bedposts were at the bottom of the sea, sunken along with her old bed and ship, but Isabella figured she would remember anyway.

The seduction part of it all was easier than she expected. There were all those little clues that let her know that Hawke was interested; the discreet peeks at where Isabella's outfit revealed more than it covered, the cute stammering whenever Isabella tossed innuendoes her way, the way Hawke reddened like a tomato whenever Isabella brushed playfully against her arm. If Hawke turned her down it would be out of shyness or propriety, not because she wasn't attracted.

What Isabella couldn't have predicted was what Hawke was like in bed.

In Hawke's mansion Isabella waited for her target to return. Perhaps guessing her purpose there, Leandra had made herself scarce. Bodahn shifted nervously, at once afraid of Isabella but unwilling to let her out of his sight for fear she might "borrow" something again. Sandal was a delightful conversationalist and perfectly adorable, but he soon lost interest and wandered into the library to play with his runes.

And then Hawke came home, relieving Bodahn of his vigil. She wasn't in her armor that day, and while Hawke usually cut a dashing figure in her armor Isabella wasn't about to complain about the sleek finery that hugged the woman's curves like a flame.

Isabella eyed her salaciously, and while the wariness in Hawke's expression let her know that she sort of understood what was going on, she still smiled with her endlessly endearing guileless charm.

"Isabella, this is a surprise"

"Thought I might visit for once. You're always grabbing me from the Hanged Man so here I am returning the favor"

"Is there something you require?"

"Yes. You could say that." Isabella closed the distance between them in a slow walk injected with equal parts swagger and sensuality. "Did you know, I found myself waking up this morning to thoughts of you"

"D-did you?"

"I did. You see I had a little dream about you last night. It was short and passionate, and sadly I woke up before it could get to the end. Have you ever had a dream like that Hawke?"

"Um…"

"Come now!" Isabella encouraged with a laugh, "You've never had a dream so intense you woke up in a sweat, heaving with breath and heart beating so fast you could feel it against your skin? I have. I had one last night." In fact she had had no such dream, but it was one of her better pick-up lines.

Hawke gulped. "I…" And then her expression shifted a little bit, almost imperceptibly, to something a little less innocent than usual. "Perhaps. But only when I dream about you, Isabella"

Maker, was she _flirting_?

And flirting quite well actually. Would wonders never cease?

Things were a little blurry after that. Isabella lunged forward and caught Hawke with a kiss. Hawke ardently reciprocated, taking Isabella by surprise by grabbing her buttocks and lifting her easily against her. Hawke's muscles bunched pleasingly, and Isabella obliged the move by wrapping her legs around Hawke's waist.

They climbed the stairs that way, smiling mouth-to-mouth like a pair of fumbling teenagers. Hawke kicked open her own door, breaking the lock mechanism. As they fell to the bed Isabella laughed at her.

"Hawke, sweetness, it's not like we have a time limit"

"S-sorry." She froze, "I'm a little nervous"

"Aw, whatever for? You've got some moves Hawke. You've done this before"

Hawke smiled at the praise, but as she continued her ministrations it became clear that she was still a little hesitant.

"I'm not made of glass Hawke, you can be a little rougher." To illustrate the point she took Hawke's hand and pressed it insistently against her boob.

"Isabella I don't think-"

With an exasperated sigh Isabella sat up. "You're not having second thoughts are you?"

"That's not it. I have this…thing"

"What kind of thing?"

"A sex thing"

"Oh? How delicious! Tell me!"

"I don't want to scare you off"

"Sweetness, the day you scare me off with sex will be the day I sign up for the cloister. If anything this will makes it ten times more fun! What is it? Butt-stuff? Do you want to bring someone else in here?"

"It's nothing like that!"

"Well I can't indulge your _sex thing_ if you don't tell me about it"

Hawke smiled gratefully. "Thank you. I appreciate you making this easy for me." Then her expression turned grim. "This is going to get kind of dark"

* * *

In battle Evelyn Hawke is a storm of carnage and pain. She charges into crowds of enemies with her giant sword, shrugging off crushing blows as if they came from the fists of children. She was someone else when she fought. She stopped being kind or civil and gave in to some inner demon that made her a conduit for surging, pulsating pain.

She explained it to Isabella once. It was called being a Reaver.

From what Isabella could surmise, Reavers were warriors that thrived on their own pain and found creative ways to share it with others. As they took damage they were somehow galvanized, channeling their pain into combat effectiveness. The principle seemed simple enough, but what Hawke did went beyond the concept on paper.

She smiled ghoulishly for one. Sometimes she ripped off the enemies' flesh to heal herself. Being physically near her induced pain to the point that enemies would disengage from her just to get away, and she wouldn't let them, laughing as they feebly backed off before slamming the edge of her sword into their bones.

In retrospect it should have been obvious that maybe that aspect of Hawke's personality would bleed into her sex life, sometimes literally.

* * *

"Harder Isabella! Harder! You're not doing it hard enough!"

…

"Use your nails! Use them n- _angh!_ Yes! Blessed Andraste! Just like- _ah! _that! Keep going!"

…

"Use your teeth!"

…

"Come for me Isabella! The night isn't over yet"

* * *

As morning came Isabella laid underneath the muted shade of Hawke's bed canopy. She would have left earlier, but she was so blasted tired she couldn't very well summon the energy to move, let alone even want to move.

She groaned as she opened her eyes, struggling to bring her forearm in front of them to block out what little light penetrated the canopy screen. She ached in ways she hadn't known she could ache before.

But through everything she felt heavy with euphoria. The night was, as Hawke had promised, a long one, and it had gotten very dark at times, but she never doubted that Hawke would hurt her more than she could handle. And honestly it was actually rather good. Better than good in fact. It was great! (In an obscene unholy kind of way)!

Afterwards Hawke had held her close. Isabella couldn't remember much by then, she was teary from the sensation, unable to speak let alone think. Hawke's arms were a quiet reassurance, and a pleasant tenderness at the end of that sexual marathon.

Even then, hours later, Isabella felt thick with the vestiges of that unspeakable pleasure.

And where was Hawke? Isabella resisted her languor to lift her head, searching the room. Her clothes were strewn about the floor, but Hawke's robes were absent. Still in the house then. As she let her head drop back onto the pillow the door to the bedroom opened to admit someone who carefully tip-toed to the bedside with a tray of food.

"Breakfast? What a wonderful hostess you are." Her voice was lessened, flat with exhaustion. It lacked its usual tease.

"I thought you might appreciate it. You sort of passed out last night"

Isabella lifted her head and Hawke thoughtfully slid a pillow underneath it. "Andraste's tits Hawke. You literally fucked me so hard I passed out. I don't think that's happened to me before." She looked down at her prone body, "And you made me spend the night! That's two amazing feats you pulled"

"I am a talented woman," Hawke said with an uncharacteristic lack of humility. She turned serious, "Are you alright? I didn't hurt you did I?"

Isabella eyed her shoulder. It still had indentations where Hawke had buried her teeth hours into it. "Well you did hurt me. I don't think I'll be able to walk right for a few days at least." At Hawke's crestfallen expression Isabella hastened to clarify, "I mean that in a good way. Maker's breath, you are the most intense lover I've ever had. Who would have thought that underneath that goody-goody exterior beat the heart of a ravenous desire demon?"

Hawke chuckled. "Now you see why I don't…indulge myself as often as I'd like"

"A Reaver. You _like _pain? Doesn't that mean you get sexually aroused every time you use that aura of pain thing?"

Hawke turned her head, blushing. Where her robe fell open Isabella could spy the scratches and cuts she had put there last night. How was it that Hawke was walking around like nothing was wrong? Must be used to this sort of thing.

"You do! Oh I cannot wait to tell Varric about this"

"Isabella"

"But it's so interesting! He would think so too!"

"Isabella I don't want people knowing about my little quirks"

"_Quirks_?" Laughed Isabella. "Fine. It stays between us"

"Thank you"

"Now if it's all the same to you, could you feed me? I can't seem to move my limbs." Hawke indulged her with a smile. "As soon as I'm healed up we are definitely doing this again"

"My, you're eager"

And she was. Isabella doubted anyone else knew about this aspect of Hawke's personality. It didn't take much to realize that her every evasion, her shyness, and her adorable bouts of discomfiture weren't the signs of innocence Isabella had assumed them to be, but rather careful mechanisms to keep people at arms' length lest they discover the truth. To suddenly find herself intimately acquainted with Hawke's true self was an oddly alluring prospect. Titillating, even.

Somehow that made staying for breakfast seem a little less strange.

"Damn right I'm eager"


End file.
